


I begin and end with you

by secrets_i_cant_reveal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Making Love, Professor Castiel, lovemaking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 06:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5655079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secrets_i_cant_reveal/pseuds/secrets_i_cant_reveal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean slipped up and called him ‘Cas’, Professor Novak’s glare and succeeding correction was enough to cow down even Dean. He had a perpetual frown on his face and his brow resembled the terrain of a mountain.<br/>He seemed to avoid eye contact with Dean.<br/>The reason was, the first time Dean locked eyes with Castiel he felt a pull. A silent plea. How a man in a dark parking may look at you if he has a gun pressed to his back.<br/>Save me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You will go to hell, Castiel.”  


Dean could only hear these words faintly through the phone, as he sat on the couch away from his husband. Castiel, on the other hand, had stopped pacing on the floor, and the hand which had been incessantly fiddling with the button on his shirt paused. There was a blank look on his face for five, then six, then seven seconds, before it was replaced by utter anguish. Tears glazed over those blue eyes that Dean had fallen in love with five years ago.  


Castiel had been a professor of Economic Law when Dean met him, at one of Sam’s PTA meetings. Of course, their parents were no more, and Dean was Sam’s guardian, thus he left his garage in Benny’s capable hands for an afternoon to attend a meeting where half a dozen old, wrinkly misty eyed professors could rave about the boy wonder that was Sam Winchester.  


Well, not all were old. There was Castiel Novak, for instance.  


Not that one could notice at first sight. When Dean slipped up and called him ‘Cas’, Professor Novak’s glare and succeeding correction was enough to cow down even Dean. He had a perpetual frown on his face and his brow resembled the terrain of a mountain. Dean was thankful that he had never opted to be a teacher because Castiel looked thin, overworked. He smiled only slightly as he read out Sam’s marks and asked him to keep up his performance. He seemed to avoid eye contact with Dean.  
The reason was, the first time Dean locked eyes with Castiel he felt a pull. A silent plea. How a man in a dark parking may look at you if he has a gun pressed to his back.  


Save me.  


Dean had tried not to think too much into it, but when he ran into Castiel again at Stanford he offered to show him a place they served the best burgers in Lawrence, Kansas. Castiel refused.  


The next time they bumped into each other was when Sam had dragged Dean outside for a jog and a breath of fresh air. Dean was grumbling loud enough for people all over the park to hear. He shut his mouth when they both saw Cas, looking as if he has not slept in days, in his pajamas, and startled that somebody he knew was here. He brushed aside their concern and said that he was out this early in his night clothes “to see the birds”. Dean asked him if he would like to have breakfast with them. Castiel refused again.  


Dean looked everywhere for the rest of his jog, but he couldn’t see a bird in sight.  


Dean got his chance when Castiel came in his with his clunky, sorry-excuse-for-a-car car to his garage with worry in his eyes and though he tried to hide from Dean, jittery calculations on his fingers as he tried to count how much the repairs would cost him. Dean decided to give the guy a little luck. He made him fill some dumb form and when he went to drop Sam the next day, popped by Castiel’s office and told him he was the lucky customer of the month who gets free servicing for the remainder of the year. Castiel looked extremely dubious at the offer, but he seemed to decide not to look a gift horse in the mouth and grumblingly muttered a thanks.  


Dean now asked him to see ‘The Hunger Games’ with him because Sam had already seen it. Castiel seemed to open his mouth to refuse again, but Dean pulled out the big-green-doe-eyed look. He even threw in a pout for good measure.  


Castiel said yes.  


They became friends; unlikely but compatible. Castiel had virtually nothing in common with Dean. Dean talked about TV shows and movies which Castiel had never even heard about and had no inclination to hear about now. Castiel, consequently, had far too much academic knowledge but far too little practical knowledge to match Dean’s. He couldn’t fix an AC or set up a grill or saw wood, neither did he have an animalistic appetite for bacon and burgers and an animalistic behaviour to match.  


It didn’t stop him from becoming Cas.  


Castiel puzzled Dean; it was apparent that their friendship, though flourishing, was a source of secret pain to Cas. He had observed Cas’ hot and cold behaviour. One day, Dean and Cas could be hanging out late at Dean’s place talking about nothing; the next day onwards Castiel wouldn’t take his calls and refused to meet him citing tests and meetings that were blatant lies, because Sam was his student and knew all about the happenings at the University. Then he’d show up at Dean’s doorstep to apologise for his aloofness and proceed to get drunk and noisy with Dean into the wee hours of the night, and start avoiding him again from the next day. The cycle went on and on until it frustrated Dean.  


The fact of the matter, which was becoming rapidly apparent to Dean, was that Castiel was troubled. When Dean asked him about the one thing that he was certain of in life, Castiel looked up into his eyes with that sombre intensity that had captivated him since the beginning and said, “That I’m never going to be happy.” Dean felt like the ground had fallen away beneath his feet as he tried to joke, “So what, you mean you’re going to die unhappy?” Castiel said, “Yes”, and turned away.  


One night Dean was roused from his sleep by his cell phone ringing persistently, and Dean, in an uncharacteristic move, actually picked it. A clipped voice on the other end calmly informed him that Castiel had been arrested for some drunk and disorderly behaviour, could he please come collect him from the police station? She rambled on about other details, oblivious to Dean’s rising hysteria, as he grabbed his car keys, landing at the station not three minutes later in sleep pants that had holes on its butt and a t-shirt so old it was practically threadbare.  


And he had seen Cas. He was sound asleep, or rather passed out on a hard wooden bench which was reserved for perps, his knees pulled up into his stomach, his hands clasped at his chest as if in prayer. His hair looked thick and uncombed, his beard untidy. He seemed to still be dressed in his work clothes, even though it was nearly 3 a.m. When Dean signed papers and talked on his behalf out of a police case, Castiel mumbled and whimpered in his sleep. As Dean tried to lift him to carry him to his car, he saw that his shirt was unbuttoned. Dean could see his ribs pressed taut against his skin, every breath he took looking like a valiant effort.  


Dean took Cas back to his shitty apartment and camped out on his couch, sleeping fretfully. The next day, after bringing a bucket to his friend so that he could puke out his hangover, he refused to give him Aspirin until Cas spilled out what was going on with him. He refused to talk to him. He threatened to barge out and never return or be his friend if he didn’t tell him. Cas looked at him, then calmly stumbled into his bathroom to hurl some more leaving Dean royally stumped.  


Dean came back the next day, and they went on as if nothing had happened.  


It was a few weeks later, lounging in Dean’s apartment that Cas told Dean that he was going to meet a woman named Daphne for dinner at his parents’ house. “Well, her parents and mine will be there, but the dinner has been arranged with the intention to introduce us to each other.”  


Dean quirked an eyebrow but otherwise remained calm. “Your parents want you to go out with her?”  


“My parents want me to marry her.”  


Dean sort of lost it at that, and it all went to shit. “What the fuck do you mean by marry her? Do you know her at all?”  


Castiel was still calm, but Dean could sense it. That desperate look in his eyes that he was trying to mask. A fine tremble in his lips that he hid behind the neck of his fifth consecutive bottle of beer. He seemed to be getting drunk with rigorous intent, to be able to gather courage to tell Dean about Daphne or to see her, he didn’t know.  


“No, Dean, I do not know her very well. One may argue that I do not know her at all. But I could get to know her. This is how people marry. They meet, get to know each other, and if they like each other they get married.” He was quiet for a moment, then added as an afterthought, “She likes art. I like art.”  


Dean exploded. “Gee, Cas, thank you for elucidating how simple the concept of marriage is. Maybe I should get married to Jo.” He put on a gravelly tone that was meant to be an insult, not a clever imitation. “She likes beer. I like beer.”  


Cas thundered to his feet and slammed the bottle down, only to have its bottom crack open on the table. The two men paid no notice to it. Cas yelled, “I don’t see how any of this warrants your acquiescence. Maybe you’d like me to follow in your honourable path, and sleep with so many girls that I can’t pick them out of a line-up.”  


Dean stood up to face him. “You know what I mean, Cas. I give a damn about you. This whole thing reeks of your parent’s pressure and blackmail tactics. I’m trying to look out for you man.”  


“Who the fuck said I needed a saviour?”, Cas spat out, as he strode out of the door without another glance back at him. Dean felt like he had been put through a cement churner.  


It was over.  
********************************************************  


“Call him, Dean.”  


“No.”  


“He’s getting engaged in a week to Daphne.”  


“He can go to hell.”  


“Have you considered that maybe he’s living in one?”  
*********************************************************  


Two days later, Dean was turning in to sleep. It was near past one. He had been too depressed to eat, but he refused to give satisfaction to Cas by getting drunk on an empty stomach to have a killer hangover at work tomorrow. He had resolved on suffering through this sober.  


Truth was, he knew what was happening. Castiel had never been able to refuse his parents on things that really mattered. They had wanted him to study Economic Law while Castiel interests clearly showed otherwise, but he went with their suggestion because it was respectable and what they wanted. When they wanted to give him a handsome allowance as a student for a flat and other expenses, he refused because he didn’t want to be yet another one of those spoilt rich kids and this determination to slug it out on his own was what his parents expected. When he hit upon a problem in the University or had a personal crisis he had to rely on Dean or on copious amounts of alcohol to deal with it but never talk to his parents, because a well-adjusted, mentally healthy young son was what his parents deserved. And now, he was getting married to Daphne because if a guy couldn’t give his parents a little joy in the form of a lavish wedding with a lovely, docile girl of their choice, then what good was he as a son, really.  


Fuck, he had better strengthen his resolve if he was going to make it through the night without breaking out the whiskey.  


He needn’t have bothered.  


A minute later, the main door swung open. Only two people had the key: Cas and Sam. And judging by the dishevelled blue eyed man swaying on the spot as though he were riding an invisible train, a bottle of whiskey clutched to his chest and a general confusion on his countenance, it was Cas.  


Dean wanted to be angry, wanted to be a bitch about it, turn him out in this state, but he wasn’t a tool. “Cas, sit down, you look…”  


“Daphne is so nice, Dean, so nice. She and I went to lunch at this amazing place where the food is so nice, and the sunlight comes in through all the windows, and the birds sit on the windowsills around the customers and she said that I was like a bird too because I keep tilting my head”, he carried on like he was reciting something from a hastily put together script, the lines jerky but patiently memorised, “and she talks about lovely things, like the stars and intelligent things, like the government and the foreign currency, and she doesn’t make any sex jokes Dean, but I can’t stand her, Dean, I can’t, not for an afternoon, not for a lifetime…” And he fell to the floor, the bottle spilling all over his pants and the floor, and it worried Dean how small of a puddle it made because Cas had drained most of the contents himself.  


Dean rushed over and pulled him into his arms. “Come on man, it’s okay, we’ll figure it out somehow…”  


“No Dean, I don’t want to figure it out.” The air quotes were but implied. “I don’t want any of this.” He looked him square in the eye, far more intense than a man this drunk and this huddled in Dean arms’ had any right to look. “I want you.”  


He sat upright, hooking his fingers behind his neck to play, with restless fingers, with his hair. “I want you. Do you… want me?”  


Dean kissed him.  
******************************************************  


Castiel awoke, the first thing he saw being Dean’s broad back as he slept next to him. His temples throbbed, his mouth felt dry and his lips chapped. He remembered his lunch with Daphne vividly, his rising hysteria, could recall the exact moment Daphne’s voice became a ringing noise and he zoned out, far, far, far from the restaurant and from his would-be fiancée and the university and his family until all he could see was a jumbled mess of decisions he couldn’t remember making, a life which he finally had the courage to admit was being lived for others.  


He reached out in front of him to graze his fingertips against Dean’s T-shirt, startled when he shifted at the contact, the muscles rolling beneath his touch. Dean turned over, his eyes clear and aware like he hadn’t slept at all, reaching out to press his fingers against Cas. Castiel laughed out loud, a short burst of sound, before he covered his mouth with the fingers of the other hand, appalled at his brazenness. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t funny at all.  


Dean quietly inched closer to him. Castiel looked into those green eyes, offset gold in the late morning sunlight, his sun dappled hair sticking up rather adorably, his tattoo peeking out the neck of his rucked up shirt. His breath quickened, remembering those nights he spent wrapped in dreams of Dean holding him, kissing him slow and sure, the conversations they had featuring in them, Dean’s weight on top of his, his lips on his skin. But these fantasies were nothing compared to the thoughts he had in broad daylight, as he sleepwalked through his lectures and grading papers and teachers conferences, of telling Dean his life story, about his sacrifices and his cowardliness, of resting his head on Dean’s chest as he let go of the chains that had held him all his life. These thoughts never failed to leave him feeling shaky, and led to him chastising himself that he shouldn’t want for things he could never have. Now, maybe, he had them.  


“Hey”, Dean whispered, unwilling to break the hush in the room just yet. All things considered, he didn’t think this would ever happen and that they’d be here.  


“Good morning Dean.”  


“You’re awfully quiet. Something on your mind?”  


Castiel hesitated, then replied, “Just thinking about a dream I had.”  


Dean smiled and said, “Was I in it?”  


“Yes”, he said, squinting in the light, unable to tear his gaze away from Dean. “Yes, you were.”  


Dean came closer. Closer. Boldly, slowly, Cas put a skittish hand on his waist, his little finger prodding the skin as his heart raced at the contact. When he looked up those eyes were so close, his lips plush as they hesitated before speaking, “What was the dream about?”  


“We… uh… were together in the dream.”  


“Together as in?”  


“As in…” Castiel trailed off, frustrated. “Dean”, he pleaded, “you know what I’m talking about. Don’t make me say it. I don’t want to want it. I have never let myself believe that I could have it.”  


“Tell me, Cas. I just want to hear it from you.”  


“You were… we were making love, Dean. You were inside me and it felt so real, as if it had really happened. You wouldn’t take your eyes off of me for a second. You told me you loved me about a million times. I said it too, Dean. We were happy. After I woke up, I cried for hours.”  


Dean surged forward before the sob in Cas’ throat could escape, mouth hot and open against his lips, his hand cupping his jaw while the other hand wrapped around his body. Castiel rolled on his back, surrendering himself to Dean, to the desires he had tried to banish from the day he had met him, giving in to his instincts. He did not want to resist it anymore, wanted everything Dean could give him. Would give him.  


“I can make your dreams come true, Cas.”  
*************************************************  


Castiel sold off his miserable apartment and moved in with Dean within the week. Dean wanted to splurge on some fine liquor but seeing Castiel struggle with alcohol had been enough to decide that some of Dean’s amazing burgers and shakes would do quite nicely to celebrate Castiel’s move into his house.  


Well, the dinner and sex. Seems everything was accompanied by sex between them these days. They were grossly like newlyweds, Cas all shy and surreptitious and horny, and Dean all eager and gentle and also horny. Castiel lost his virginity the morning that he awoke in Dean’s bed, and Dean realised how much in love he was, always had been, with his best friend. Castiel was, well just like himself the first time, demanding without words, moaning without sound, staring at Dean as if he was everything, his whole world, only closing his eyes as he fell off the edge into an abyss of pleasure.  


They had simply been unable to keep their hands off each other, going at it again and again until the fire in them quenched, and Castiel, exhausted and dewy-eyed, snuggled into Dean and damn near passed out. Dean chose to stay awake, looking down at Cas, peaceful and sated, and wondered if he would sound a little crazy if he proposed to him just then.  


After dinner they did the dishes together, tidied up the kitchen, and just as Dean was making a little tea for Cas because he always slept better after he had had some, he realised that Cas had perched upon the counter, looking at him.  


Dean chuckled without turning to him, “Whatcha looking at, Cas?”  


“You.”  


“Yeah, I kinda figured that out. I meant why, all of a sudden.”  


He didn’t realise Cas was behind him until he felt his lean arms wind around him, lips pressing a kiss to the fluttering pulse in his neck. “You’re beautiful.”  


“I know.”  


Castiel grinned. ”Your modesty amazes me every day.”  


Dean turned to hand him his cup of tea. As Castiel nodded in thanks and took a hot sip, Dean asked, “Did you… I mean, are you going to tell your family about us?” Castiel had called off his engagement with Daphne, but he hadn’t told them anything about Dean, instead sticking to the half-truth that he felt incompatible with her. Needless to say, they hadn’t been happy.  


Castiel’s hand shook on the cup he was holding, his sweet smile replaced by something unreadable. “You don’t understand Dean. It’s not that easy.”  


“Look, Cas, I know they are conservative. But we could try. Sure, I’m no pretty blonde girl, but I am a young man who owns a business and has a brother that got a full ride into Stanford. I’m no dealer or some shit like that, Cas. Definitely the kind of guy you can take home to your parents.” He grinned, and put on his innocent smile that meant nothing but mischief. “Come on, I’ll even put on a suit.”  


But Castiel’s expression hadn’t budged. He had put down the tea which was tepid now, undrinkable. His voice was cracked as he replied, “It doesn’t matter if you’re the best guy on the whole planet, and you are the best guy for me. They won’t”, his voice cracked, and he swallowed hard before continuing, “They won’t let me see you anymore.”  
Dean’s expression hardened. “No one can tell you what to do and what not to do Cas.”  


“Then stop telling me to introduce you to my parents.”  


Dean’s eyes narrowed. He crossed the small gap between them and got into his space, harsh and threatening. He said, “What the fuck, Cas? You too chicken shit to tell your folks you like it up the ass?”  


Castiel’s eyes swam with tears. “Yes, I’m a coward. You can judge me all you want, but I’m not telling them.”  


“How are you going to hide this relationship, Cas”, Dean yelled, “when you’ve moved in with me. Don’t you think that you can just keep going back and forth and fuck me and then return to your parents like a good little boy. I’m not a hooker.”  


“Dean, please…”  


“You need to stand up to them, God dammit!”  


“They’ll kill me!”  


The echo ran out in the house as both men stood in silence, glaring at each other, tears in their eyes. Castiel broke down, crumbling to the floor before Dean’s eyes, sobbing quietly as he tried to quell the wails emerging from his throat. That slapped Dean across the face; if Castiel had to hide his sorrow from Dean, then he was no different from his family. He couldn’t believe he had pushed so much, just out of insecurity and this need to be accepted by everyone in Cas’ life.  


He knelt down and wrapped his arms around Cas. The fight had gone out of Cas, and he was just hiccupping now, his throat hoarse. “I’m sorry”, he whispered.  


“No, I’m sorry, Cas. I’m not going to bring your parents up anymore. You don’t have to do anything to prove your love for me.”  


“But I have to figure something out, Dean. If they find out…”  


“Don’t be scared, Cas.”  


“I’ve been broken before. I don’t know how to be unafraid. All I know is that I love you more than I ever thought possible.”  


Dean was quiet. Cas sniffed, eyes sticky with tears, rubbed his nose and looked at him to find Dean staring curiously at him. Cas stiffened and asked, “What?”  


“Marry me, Cas.”  


“Dean…”  


“I’m not kidding. Marry me Castiel Novak.”  


“We’ve been together for a week.”  


“That’s just details. Marry me, and then nobody can take you away from me.”  


Castiel clung to him, fingers digging into his back as he kissed him, relieved and grateful beyond measure, and it was all the yes Dean would ever need.


	2. Chapter 2

The night before the wedding, Dean and Cas were apart. it hadn't been either of their idea, really, but Sam, in his new fangled approach to romance and all other other similar things which made him misty eyed, said something about fresh start and a little abstinence before the wedding was not unheard of in many cultures. He suggested a week of separation, but Dean's warning glare and pure alarm on Castiel's face made him hastily retract his suggestion. 

Dean cleaned the house and ordered the catering for the few guests that were going to attend and took care of other miscellaneous arrangements, while Castiel put on a brave face and went off, a small attache in tow which held his towel and toothbrush, and a zipped bag which held his suit for tomorrow. Sam didn't have an additional bedroom apart from the lone one he shared with his girlfriend Jessica, so Cas took the couch. Jessica, excited at being a part of a wedding this close to family, was full of questions. But she hadn't known Sam long, and in turn barely knew Castiel. After two questions enquiring if Castiel's parents were flying in for the wedding and if his brother was going to be his best man like Sam was going to be Dean's, Sam gently shushed her with a hand on her arm. Jessica, suddenly contemplative, went off to make some tea for Castiel, stating that Dean had said it would help him sleep. 

After having his tea and watching television for a little while with the young couple, they decided to call it a night. Castiel politely refused when Sam asked if he needed anything else, having changed into his night clothes. Castiel was already apologetic about putting Sam out like this considering he was his professor and all, but Sam waved him off with a chuckle. Awkward yet grinning, he said, "Quit it Cas. Tomorrow, you become my brother-in-law." 

Dean retired to sleep, tired but his mind was buzzing and his body was restless. He even knew why. Him and Cas had become oddly connected, in the short span of their relationship. Dean missed him when he wasn't at his side,when he went to work at the garage, if Castiel came home late from the university. He missed him now, as he flicked through some pictures of him on his phone, usually taken unsuspectingly because God knows the guy got all solemn and awkward if he tried to get him to pose for a snap. There was a slightly blurry one of Cas reading in bed, the blanket over his knees and his glasses perched over his nose, his mouth shaped around a word. He loved this one, Cas next to him, relaxed and in repose. There was another of Cas on stage behind a podium, which Dean had taken from the wings of the stage. He was wearing a black suit, formal and stern looking. He could almost hear his gravelly voice over the microphone, echoing through the hall. Picture after picture of him, some with Dean, some in the Impala, some closeups of him when he wasn't looking, his lips and marble cheekbones in focus. Dean knew it was unnatural to be so enamoured with anyone after only three weeks of being together, but no one could convince him otherwise. 

Three weeks couldn't even be considered a respectable duration for a courtship, but if there were any doubts they were in the minds of others, not Dean. He put a hand over the spot Castiel lay in, missing him with a fierce longing. He was acting like such a sap; this was only for one night. Tomorrow they would be married in front of their rag-tag little family, friends in tow. Well, his friends and family anyway. Bobby would officiate the wedding, Sam would stand as his best man and carry the rings. Jess, Jo and a few others would be in attendance, all piled together in his roomy apartment. No one from Castiel's family would hover even near the wedding. It wasn't like they had been extended an invitation, but this was a small town and somebody's business was everybody's business, especially when the somebody happened to be the rich son of the conservative Novaks who wasn't even rumoured to be a homosexual until a month back. 

Not only had the Novaks disowned their son and boycotted the wedding, they had chosen to show their disappointment openly. Castiel's face fell when both the churches in town refused to conduct their wedding, and it was no secret that their most generous donors and Castiel's former family was behind this freeze off. Dean couldn't get through to Cas when he felt like this, rejected by his own, so he quietly suggested to have the wedding in their apartment, and was relieved when Cas cheered visibly and said that would be a much better option. It hadn't taken long to plan, and would cost a tuppence, which was good because Dean wanted to save for their future and the best damned honeymoon anyone had given their beloved. 

He curled his fingers which would be enmeshed with Cas's usually this time of night, and wondered if he should call him. Belatedly he wondered if it was high time he went to sleep so that he could be fresh for the wedding tomorrow. Finally he decided against the call and thought to himself that at least a night of separation should be a proper, Amish-type separation. He crossed his arms against his chest and closed his eyes with a hum. 

Moments later he opened them, grabbed Cas's pillow and hugged it with his arms as he closed his eyes again. Hey, no one had to know. **************************************** 

Dean opened his eyes and felt as if he hadn't slept a wink. Glaring at his alarm, he saw it was a few minutes before six, when the alarm would go off. Awake now, he swung his legs out from under the covers, clicking the analog clock off on the way to the bathroom. 

He had barely touched his lips to his first cup of coffee, excess brewed because he usually made for both him and Cas, when the bell rung, somebody knocking impatiently on the door. "Dean, I hope you're up, it's me" announced Sam from across the door. Dean sighed and went to open it. 

Sam was bitchfacing before the door was even fully open. "God, you look tired. Did you sleep at all last night? It's your wedding man, look alive." He pushed past him into the livivng room, a bag in one hand and a zipped wrapper held as carefully as gold in the other, evidently containing his wedding dress. 

Suit, he corrected himself. No chicks in this shindig. Just him and Cas, a couple of guys, one assumed to be a ladies man for the better part of his youth, one defying his whole family, getting hitched in a pauper's wedding which cost about the same as Sam's graduation party. God, Romeo and Juliet had nothing on them. 

"Go take a shower. A clean one, not just washing your face and coming out in a towel like you did when you were a kid, and by that I mean last month", Sam instructed, setting down the bag and glancing around the room, silently taking stock of what was to be done. "I'll get this party started int he meantime." 

Dean finally asked what was bugging him since morning. "How's Cas? What's he doing there?" 

Sam shrugged. "He's fine, I guess. Not doing much better than you", he said and chucked. "Barely slept I think, and today morning he kept staring at the omlet and smiling at himself. Jess fangirled all over the room. She's found her life mission in you two." 

Dean nodded. "That's good, but not what I meant. Is he like, I don't know, rethinking this whole thing? Does he look freaked? Like he wants to bolt?" 

Sam looked up at him from where he was laying out the suit bag on the couch arm. "That's ridiculous Dean, and just like something you'd say eight hours before the wedding. You're the best thing to have ever happened to him, Dean. Why would he wanna bail?" 

"Because his family is..." 

"A giant bag of dicks, I know. But I don't think it's eating at him anymore. He's ready to start his life with you, and you need to be ready too. Go shower", Sam ordered, effectively ending the conversation. Once Dean went in the bedroom, mumbling about bossy younger brothers who grow a little tall and think they own the world, he huffed and began rearranging the furniture. 

**********************************************************

By the time Dean was showered, dressed and powdered (figuratively), Sam had already handled the bulk of the setup in his apartment. The length of the living room wasn't long enough for an aisle, not that Dean was interested in walking down one and neither was Castiel. Instead, a small altar with a temporary arch of sprightly white and purple flowers wound in and around it had been set up at the head of the room, the television having been shifted away and plunked elsewhere by Sam. There was a jumble of black foldout chairs generously lent by Ellen from the bar, and a rented carpet on the floor. The food would arrive only an hour before the ceremony so that it remained fresh, and Sam had bought enough beer for the wedding party to get well and truly plastered. Two large tables, also from the bar, had been set together in the kitchen and a beautiful tablecloth put over them, and Sam had set about washing the good china which belonged to their mother which she had inherited from her own parents and which, like all American families, had lain for the better part of their existence in the china cabinet until Sam had the bright idea of using them for the wedding. 

Dean stepped out of the room, asking, "Hey, why don't you call Jess and ask how's it going on with Cas?" 

Sam, turning around, started, "Stop it with the micromanaging. Cas is..." he trailed off, looking at his brother, who was dressed to the nines, hair combed and gelled, shoes polished, cuff links in place, an uncharacteristic blush on his face. He grinned, "Hot damn, Mr. Bond." 

Dean blushed harder, scowling as he said, "Shut up. Let me finish the plates. Call Jess." 

And Dean stripped of the jacket, rolled up his sleeves high, put on the apron and took up the plates and spoons while definitely not eavesdropping on how his fiance was coming along and if he needed anything. By the sound of it, everything was fine with them. He wondered if Cas was dressed, closing his eyes and trying to picture him in the suit Jess took him to purchase and nobody in his whole family would even let him take a peek at. He wondered if it was black like his, or grey, if he was going to wear a tie or a bow. He tingled with anticipation, trying not to let his excitement show. 

Sam called out to him. "Cas says he wants to come home now. He's dressed and Jess says he's tired of waiting. He's sitting and pouting and pretending that he isn't." 

Dean sniggered. "Just like him. Tell him to come home. In any case, he has forgotten his dress shoes in the closet here." 

"So it means you're not going to adhere to the time honoured tradition of not seeing your to-be spouse before the wedding in their wedding dress?" 

"Dude, for the last time, Cas is not a chick! And I have never believed in that stupid rule. So, just let him come home and he can help us set up." 

Sam sighed audibly and told Jess to drive Cas over. Dean puttered around the house trying to look for more things to do, but the living room was all set. Sam got a call from Bobby who said he nneded a lift so Sam took the Impala to fetch him. Once he was gone, Dean went into his bedroom to check if he had everything he needed for tonight. He had kept it hidden inside his closet under his work clothes because he was afraid Sam would come into his room to look for something and stumble upon them. He checked them off. Condoms, good ones which he had discreetly asked the guy at the pharmacy, with his face aflame, if they were good for *to be continued*


End file.
